I want everything to be easy, all of the time. When I’m opening a can and it spills shit even a little, I groan. When I’m sat in traffic and some fucking dude a couple cars in front doesn’t take off at the green light quick enough and the lights go red again before I can proceed, I groan. I punch the underside of the mirror fold up thingy on my car. I’ve broken the glass of the mirror. When I’m doing something in the kitchen or walking around the house and the pocket of my pants somehow gets caught on a shelf or door handle. The sheer physics/odds of the act actually occurring so frequently is enough to sicken you with rage. When I’m trying to take too many things out of the car at once because I refuse to make a second trip, and one of the things scratches my car or my lack of free hands causes the door to close on my unshielded leg or something. It’s the universe/God’s way of punishing me. Taking a sick interest in my pathetic life and not allowing me to get ahead by making that one trip from the car instead of two. Using the gained time to work on a book, write a song, do some pushups or Pilates, but no. I spend that extra time groaning, punching inanimate, lifeless shit and gritting my fucking teeth. Everything at a price.